


Two Slow Dancers

by Nemi_Almasy



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemi_Almasy/pseuds/Nemi_Almasy
Summary: Rufus and Tseng share a tender moment while working late at Headquarters one evening.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 15
Kudos: 136





	Two Slow Dancers

Rufus Shinra was exhausted.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t expected the added work that would come from finally usurping his father’s throne, but the paperwork that required his sign off, the decisions to made in dealing with the mess his father left behind with Wutai, the ex-SOLDIER and his crew still on the run, the damn sector 7 plate collapse, _Sephiroth_ : they all took so much of his time that he wasn’t quite sure when he had last taken a moment for himself. Not that he was as self-indulgent as the tabloids painted him out to be, but before there had always been time set aside to enjoy a drink by the fire and sort through his thoughts.

He had spent more nights asleep on the couch in his new office than he could count.

If not for the diligence of Tseng and his crew, he wouldn’t have had any good help. Heidegger was still pouting over the President’s death and the resulting shift in power. Rufus harbored no sentimental feelings for his recently deceased father, and so he gave Heidegger little leeway in his grief. Scarlet was useful in her department, but no help with his own work. Reeve was one giant question mark.

The Turks were the only ones Rufus trusted as far as loyalty to his new reign went.

He stared at a stack of documents on his desk left behind by Tseng earlier that day for review. Tseng was nothing if not diligent about saving only the most relevant and necessary documents for Rufus to sign off on, handling the rest with a custom stamp of Rufus’ signature. He wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with something like that, but Tseng wouldn’t mislead him.

Gods, he was tired. And the documents were an absolute bore to try to read even when he was wide awake. At his side, Darkstar stretched her long body and yawned, spinning in a circle before lying down against the cool marble floor and closing her eyes. He watched with envy - he would have loved to lie down and rest.

He signed off on a few documents, yawned, read a few more, rubbed his eyes. A glance at the clock on his desk told him it was almost three in the morning. He leaned his head against his hand and struggled to keep his eyes open, but they were so heavy…a catnap couldn’t hurt anything.

The sound of the elevator doors sliding open caused him to jerk his head up and he found Tseng approaching with a folder containing more documents. Tseng seemed to keep the same schedule he did - he was at headquarters all hours of the day and practically lived in his office these days when he wasn’t out in the field with his men. _And women_. Tseng chided him often for forgetting Elena, which in itself was a curious new development. He was always stiff and professional, but ever since Rufus took over as President, he seemed to relax - if only a little - in Rufus’ presence. They had exchanged some good natured ribbing more than once in the last few weeks.

Maybe they were both so overworked they were losing their edge.

“Mr. President,” Tseng said, coming to stand behind the desk. He set the folder next to the existing stack.

“Oh.” Rufus blinked languidly. “Thank you, Tseng.”

“Sir, forgive me if this is out of line, but you should consider getting some rest.” He placed a hand on Rufus’ shoulder.

Rufus rubbed his brow. “You might take your own advice, Tseng.” He was intensely aware of Tseng’s fingers digging lightly into his shoulder. It wasn’t any sort of gross breach of protocol - Rufus was always touching shoulders and backs as a means of communication with the Turks - but it felt out of the norm for Tseng.

“Sir, the e-mail you sent me an hour ago was incomprehensible,” Tseng said, the uptick in his voice at the end of his statement as close as Rufus had ever heard him come to a laugh.

“Was it?” Rufus chuckled. Tseng’s hand lifted away from his shoulder and, without really considering the implications of what he was doing, Rufus reached his hand up to hold Tseng’s in place, curling his fingers around it and squeezing lightly.

Apart from the audible intake of breath behind him, Tseng made no sound, and no move to withdraw his hand again.

Neither of them could have denied the tangible tension that sometimes existed between them, but Tseng was a professional and Rufus had never really been willing to cross that line with the only person he truly trusted. The closest they had ever come was a very intense moment after the attack on headquarters while Tseng had tended to Rufus’ wounds. But even that had been little more than an understanding gaze.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Rufus didn’t really care to pretend he didn’t savor Tseng’s touch in that moment. What did it matter anyway? He was President now. He made the rules.

His hand still lay over top of Tseng’s on his shoulder. Slowly, he pulled Tseng’s hand toward him, unbuttoning the little clasp on his ever-present leather gloves and pulling it off finger by finger. Tseng remained behind him, still as a statue. When the glove had been removed, Rufus tossed it onto his desk and ran his fingers along the top of Tseng’s - surprisingly soft for a man who spent part of his time bashing skulls together - turning his hand over and tracing his fingertips against Tseng’s palm. There was another audible intake of breath, but nothing else.

Rufus let go of Tseng’s hand and pushed his chair away from his desk, rising to his feet for the first time in at least an hour, his joints stiff from lack of movement. He turned to face Tseng.

“Tseng, would you indulge me for a moment?” He asked.

“Sir?” He held Rufus’ gaze confidently, but his furrowed brow made it clear Rufus had unnerved him.

Crossing the room, Rufus stopped in front of an old fashioned turntable he had brought in after he took over. He thumbed through a stack of records and picked out an old jazz album, placing it delicately onto the turntable and dropping the needle. After a moment, the music drifted through the air.

“Dance with me,” Rufus said, stepping into the space in front of his desk and holding his hand out.

Tseng stared at his hand for a moment. Rufus wouldn’t begrudge him denying the request. Tseng put his job before everything else - it wasn’t exactly professional to dance with your boss alone in his office. Rufus could practically see the cogs turning in his brain as he considered his next move.

“If that’s what you’d like, sir,” Tseng finally answered, removing his other glove and moving gracefully across the room to meet him.

Rufus placed a hand on the small of Tseng’s back, his other hand gripping Tseng’s and allowing their fingers to intertwine. Tseng gripped his shoulder lightly and let Rufus lead him in slow, sweeping circles across the marble. Neither of them said a word for several seconds, their feet shuffling against the floor the only sound against the backdrop of the jazz.

“Are you feeling sentimental, sir?” Tseng asked after a while.

“I suppose you could say that. I didn’t peg you for a dancer, Tseng.”

“My brother took lessons. My mother made me help him with his practice,” Tseng explained, still holding Rufus’ gaze.

Rufus smiled. “My mother made me take lessons when I was younger. Someone of my station…certain things were expected of me.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Tseng?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You don’t need to call me sir when it’s just the two of us.”

“My apologies.”

They danced until the song ended, slowing to a halt as the needle lifted off the record, though Rufus kept his hand against the small of Tseng’s back and Tseng kept his hand on Rufus’ shoulder even after they stopped. Rufus stared at Tseng’s face, his eyes tracing the slope of his nose down to his lips, imperceptibly parted. What could it really hurt? Tseng felt it too, didn’t he?

Before he realized what he was doing, Rufus’ lips were against Tseng’s and Tseng’s fingers were digging into his shoulder. He made no move to disengage from the kiss and for a moment they held themselves there, lips pressed together, noses brushing. When Rufus finally pulled away, he left as little space between their faces as possible, their lips still brushing lightly.

“Tseng,” he breathed.

Tseng lifted his hand to Rufus’ face, tracing his thumb delicately against his cheek. They kissed once more and then pressed their foreheads together. Rufus ran his hand through Tseng’s long, silky hair and rested it against the back of his head.

More than once, Rufus had considered all the things he might like to do with Tseng, but in that moment all he wanted was to hold him. Tseng’s eyes closed, his hand still cupping Rufus’ face. For the first time in a long time, Rufus felt at ease.

Tseng was the first to break away, his face conflicted as he took a step back. “You need to rest,” he said.

Rufus couldn’t disagree with him. He was so tired he could have fallen asleep standing. To his surprise, Tseng hooked their arms together and led Rufus over to the couch against the wall. He sat down, placing a pillow in his lap, and pulled Rufus down onto the couch with him. Rufus stretched his body the length of the couch and placed his head against the pillow, turning on his side so that he was facing Tseng and closing his eyes as Tseng’s fingers brushed against his scalp.

Both of them knew nothing needed to be said. There would be time later to pursue more - and now that they had kissed, Rufus had every intention of exploring that line of thought. For now, it was enough to lie there, enjoying his touch as it lulled him to sleep, a moment of vulnerability he would never have shared with anyone else on the planet.

And finally, for the first time in what felt like days, he slept.

**Author's Note:**

> I just love these two and needed some happy fluff.


End file.
